The Crown of Sanctuary
by D. W. Origins
Summary: Harry has lost a great deal of loved ones throughout his young life. Now with the immortal words of his long parted father and his lover Hermione, so Harry searches for the Guild of Sanctuary; and for the knowledge that had long been denied to him. H/Hr AU please read and please enjoy. Rated M for possible violence and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Crown of Sanctuary**_

_**Book One **_

_By - D. W. Origins_

Chapter One – Sacrifices

The youngest resident of Number Four Privet Drive sat in quiet deliberation stationed upon a firm, but well cushioned sun bench at the bottom of the residencies rear garden. This place served as a sanctuary to the young man; it was here, listening to the delicate gurgle of his aunt and uncles water feature, the gentle summer sun softly warming his face, it was here that Harry Potter could find relative peace in a world ruled by chaos.

Tucking back a stray length of his unruly dark hair Harry stretched out the muscles in his back, allowed himself to feel this vague senses of concordance which had enveloped him. With these simple actions Harry unveiled the marking which proclaimed him more than just a man: His distinctive Lightning Bolt scar.

Bore since his first year of birth, Harry James Potter had worn the scar when the master of darkness: Lord Voldemort, had attempted his murder. A slight rumble resounded deep within the depths of his stomach, drawing forth a growl of hunger. Glancing down at his wrist watch Harry saw that he had not eaten since breakfast a great number of hours prior. A sigh escaped his lips. He had not been sat within the garden all that time, however his days of care, scheming and education had evoked both a tiredness and a sense of hunger within him. The young man knew that his next actions could evoke a great war of words between he and his relatives, but this action was required, he was hungry.

Standing, Harry cast one last look around his sanctuary before making his way back into the overly clean, two storey building. Harry cast his gaze into the conjoined dining room and living room. His aunt and uncle sat within their own chairs, his uncle Vernon engrossed in a depiction of war upon the television whilst Harry's aunt fiddled with a bouquet of new blossoms, creating a feature with string, decorative hemlock and ribbons. His cousin Dudley was no where to be seen.

"Would anyone care for something to eat?" Harry questioned of his relatives. A grunt issued from Vernon Dursley while his aunt Petunia offered him a glance.

"No," Petunia Dursley said firmly. Harry raised an eyebrow and eyed his relation. Aunt Petunia at first tried to meet her nephew in a battle of wills, but the sheer sight of him quailed her spirit and she lowered her eyes from his intense emerald gaze. "No, thank you."

A slight smile crossed Harry's well cut mouth as he proceeded back into the kitchen. Taking a perfectly cleaned, non-stick frying pan from the oven Harry began to cook. Soon the smell of well cooked bacon and perfect eggs filled the senses. Bread was buttered, bacon was laid with eggs to crown and Harry broke the yoke to spread the creamy yellow liquid onto the opposite slice. Two sandwiches rested on plates, either side of each other. Harry lifted one and took it into his uncle, the elder man offered no words of appreciation, nor did his gaze meet his nephews. Harry sniggered darkly and exited the living room once more.

Taking a place at the breakfast bar within the kitchen Harry began to eat. It felt strangely liberating to be free from his aunt and uncles abusive shackles. Ever since Mad-Eye Moody had warned the Dursley's off their mistreatment of the young man so his relations had mainly acted with absent gazes towards Harry; speaking only when he did and not addressing him otherwise.

The porky frame of Vernon Dursley waddled into the kitchen carrying his empty side plate. When he saw Harry and the food he was savouring th elder man's face flooded with purple fury.

"Mite I ask, who said you could steal our food?" Vernon growled low in his throat, Harry turned to face his uncle, swallowing another mouthful of sandwich as he did.

"I mite inform you that it is against your _Muggle_ laws to starve a fellow human being within a household anywhere in the British isles." Vernon swallowed the lump which Harry's words had formed in his throat.

"You are not a human being, boy!" Vernon Dursley spat, low and ominous his words evoking action from his nephew. Standing Harry advanced upon his uncle. The elder man backed away slightly, suddenly weary but Harry merely looked deep into his uncle's beady eyes.

"I bleed if you cut me, I feel if you hurt me, I reason and deliberate, I believe that makes me human." Both youth and elder stood at set too, eyes glaring deep with dislike towards each other. Vernon Dursley's lower lips quivered but he did not look away.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry hissed, dark and low. Vernon Dursley wrinkled his upper lip into a snarl but said nothing.

"Why didn't you treat me right? Didn't it ever occur to you that if you had shown me even a little bit of love I mite have respected your wishes and not become a wizard?" Vernon Dursley blustered, thunderstruck. Harry could see the elder man comprehending the words he had just spoken. Vernon Dursley grunted and turned towards the door.

"Just clean up the plates when you are done." Vernon ordered, Harry knew that his uncle had only said that because he wished to have the final say in the matter. Harry nodded and stepped back to his snack.

* * *

Evening enveloped the slight Surrey suburb, the sky, that should have been awash with stars, rested instead deep and dark against the horizon. Stationed at his desk, the light of his lamp his only comfort Harry penned a single note.

To spare outrage to whom it was addressed Harry did not write upon his usual parchment paper, instead plain Muggle paper was the vessel of his thoughts as he finished his final draft. A number of crumpled notes rested amidst the foot of his chair, rejections as he struggled to pencil his thoughts. His trunk was already packed, his owl Hedwig had been released and his destiny was at hand.

"I must get stronger if I'm to survive." Harry mused to himself aloud as his thoughts of life slowly seeped from him. He was content to simply watch the evening sky through his window. A slight, gentle pop issued behind the young man. Though he gripped his weapon in his wand hand Harry merely smiled lightly at the intense, radiant energy which filled his chamber. This energy could only belong to one person, Harry's best friend and the brightest witch of their age.

"Is everything ready?" Harry breathed speaking towards the window fascinated with a slight constellation formation which had unveiled within the heavens. Harry felt her advance, her hands coming to softly rest upon his shoulders. The young man sighed at the touch, is core, his heart filled with conflicting emotions. Harry had confessed his feelings for Hermione in a heartfelt letter, himself trying to push the young woman away with the intensity of his emotion. Believing in himself that his best friend felt only platonic feelings towards him, never had he expected her to return these emotions. However Hermione had visited him that evening, herself one of the few people allowed to pass through the magical blood spell his mother had cast upon him with her sacrifice owing to their friendship and knowledge of his former headmaster. There they had spoke and come to their current conclusion.

"My parents are safe," Hermione said gently her touch coming to envelop her young lover, a kiss placed upon Harry's head in comfort. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I am," Harry said gently his touch coming to Hermione's interlocked hands. Lifting them Harry kissed the crown of her manus. "It's been sixteen years since my parent's murder and all I have done is loose my friends and loved ones. This cannot be allowed to happen again."

"Harry..." Hermione breathed seeking to offer reassurance, to comfort her friend and more. However she held her words inside knowing that Harry's self loathing could only be bested with action rather than words of comfort he would not hear.

"What shall we do about Ron?" Hermione questioned speaking of the third member of their trio. Harry exhaled his deepest of suspirations.

"Though it pains me to say this... he cannot be allowed to accompany us," Turning within both his lovers and his chairs embrace Harry faced Hermione. "He feels for you, feelings of the extent I know not, also he would not be willing to sacrifice his family as you have. These factors make him unsuitable to this endeavour."

Hermione exhaled deeply drawing her lover into a deeper embrace. True, she had felt feelings for Ron beyond simple friendship but these emotions were born from grief. Having to watch Harry, her best friend, her inner lover fade into the arms of another. Having to bare his talks of jealousy and pain was too much of a burdon. She needed someone, someone to whom she could invest her feelings, never knowing that on this summer Harry would be hers, hers, and asking of she herself to leave all she had known behind.

"When do we leave?" Hermione questioned, not knowing of the extent her emotions would allow her to go for him, her feelings so deep they frightened her as Harry stood and faced her.

"Tomorrow morning." Harry said gently and drew his lover into a deep, passionate kiss.


	2. First Sight

_Chapter Two – First Sight_

Their kiss was filled with emotion: Passion, lust, ecstasy and fervour, until both lovers found themselves falling, falling both physically and emotionally into a sea of feeling and upon Harry's bed. Their touches explored each other, bodies ripe with youthful longing, blood hot and burning. Their kiss deepened, Harry's touch coming to Hermione's denim clad thighs.

His lover shivered with emotion as his touch drifted to the delicate V at the front of her trousers. Hermione lifted her hand, touched the straining beast which existed as his tool of procreation. Her eyes widened as her hand failed to core about his length, both because of his baggy slacker pants and also because of its sheer girth.

"By the gods..." Hermione breathed, Harry saw the fear in her eyes clouded by a sense of lust and emotion. Harry smiled.

"Enough for one night." so he breathed his heart beating deeply and violently against his chest. A look of intense disappointment equalled with a maiden's thankfulness crossed Hermione's visage as she smiled.

"We don't need to rush anything, do we?" so questioned Hermione of her lover as Harry smiled and shook his head.

"I wouldn't dare rush you, Hermione. You are to precious to me for me to force my desires upon you." Hermione breathed and shook her head.

"You are the pinnacle of nobility, Harry." he blinked not knowing if Hermione's words were jest or compliment. His lips claimed hers once more this kiss now one of innocent lovers instead of passion.

Gently the lovers pulled apart, Hermione's form beneath his a look of innocent longing filling her eyes as Harry gazed upon her, a look of noble dignity shielding himself from desire. His eyes drank in her beauty, rich brown eyes filled with so much strength and wisdom, face a Venus' glory while her body trembled beneath his touch which explored the side of her frame.

"Should I...? Should I go...?" Hermione breathed questioning her lover of her current situation. A light rouge touched the edges of Harry's cheeks as he slowly drew back. A fear crept back into his heart, a feeling of concern for her and the thought of her alone within her household. True her parents would not be a great deal of protection if the Dark Order choose to target Hermione, but he couldn't help but feel concerned for her. Concern was not his only reason of thought, Harry knew that from tomorrow they would be spending a great deal of time together and they should get used to each other more than they were already. That and also he longed to feel her against him once more.

Hermione understood, maybe it was her own desire, perhaps it was their connection and deep friendship but she knew Harry wished for her to stay. Extracting herself from her lover Hermione began to straighten her passion ruffled curls. Fingers ran through her wealth of chestnut tresses as she smiled towards her lover.

"Can you offer me some night clothes?" Hermione questioned of Harry who blinked suddenly embarrassed.

"All I have is my Hogwarts robes or a t-shirt. I wouldn't press my cousin's vile hand-me-down's on you." Hermione sniggered teasingly.

"Very well." Hermione reached for the hem of her day shirt, lifted the fabric from her frame unveiling a simple, white, floral patterned bra and smooth skin. Harry choked on his surprise, diverting his gaze in gentlemanly fashion.

There was a snap of clasps and Harry turned seeing the form of his lover before him topless and nude except for her matching white panties which she kept on. Desire heated Harry's blood as he gazed upon her exquisite beauty. Her body was womanly, not lean or athletic like Ginny's nor as curvy as Cho's. However Hermione possessed an alluring, pure beauty, perky breasts tipped with delicate, budding nipples and slim, curved waistline and lean thighs. She smiled and winked.

"You would have seen more, had we gone further." Hermione stated matter-of-factly as she bent forth and plucked her clothes from the floor. Harry sniggered lightly realising the truth in Hermione's words as she folded her garb and placed them upon Harry's school trunk.

Harry himself stripped from his own clothes unveiling a strong, lean frame. His skin was pale, dusted with a faint sprinkling of chest hair. His stomach was flat and strong muscles forged from a lifetime of combat and sports. His nakedness was concealed by a large set of shorts, not boxers more casual summer shorts, Hermione doubted that any sense of true underwear would have been big enough to conceal his length. Hermione felt a slight moistening of herself as she drank in his beauty as she could see he felt his own sense of desire. Once both garbs were folded and ready for the morrow both lovers settled within Harry's single bed. They snuggled, the feel of skin on skin a deep turn on as together they shared a kiss before falling into sleep in each others arms.


	3. A Fathers Final Gift

_Chapter Three – A Fathers Final Gift_

Slumber slowly drifted from Hermione, drawing from the depths of dreams back to the waking world. She was aware of a faint, beautiful music filling the air. The words were sung in an an emotional ballad style duet uniting the voices of both a smooth Latin toned gentleman with a powerful female soprano. She snuggled deeper into her pillow, listening to the song and its words.

_In a world without you_

_Without you, I would always hunger_

_All I need is your love_

_To make me stronger_

The words ended on a fantastic high note. Hermione's heart began to beat evermore, the words a reflection of her emotions towards Harry. An air of curiosity settled over Hermione as her eyes slowly opened. Her lover was not beside her, instead the bed was empty except for her. A sense of fear gripped as she forced herself up.

"Harry?" Hermione called out, she gazed about her. The room was undisturbed except for Harry's now open trunk. Panic began to settle within her. Erupting from her bed Hermione grasped her wand from the bedside table. She hastened to dress, forgetting shoes or socks as she rushed from the room.

A startled oaf sounded before her, there was a crash, she collided with a body as arms enveloped her.

"Hermione... Calm down." Her concern evaporated at once at the sound of Harry's voice. She looked up, his eyes bright and startled. She breathed in relief and embrace him deeply.

"I'm sorry... it's just... you weren't."

"Shush now," Harry cooed his lips touching her brow in a kiss of comfort. "You've ruined your breakfast." Hermione blinked, looking down at the broken plates and soiled food she had knocked from his hands.

Hermione apologised then, with a wave of her wand, she repaired the broken plates and scourged the food of any ill commodities, not that Harry's aunt would allow any beneath her scrutinises cleaning.

Magically the plates lifted into each of their hands filled with a traditional English breakfast. Hermione smiled as she turned and together they entered Harry's room once more.

The food was as exquisite as a fried breakfast could be. Hermione savoured both the sausages and bacon which were both neither crisp nor undercooked.

"Where are your relations?" Hermione questioned of Harry when at last they had eaten their breakfasts and refreshed themselves with tall glasses of fresh orange juice.

"They left early this morning, I wrote a letter to them proclaiming that members of the Order will be arriving to pick me up."

"And they just left?" Hermione tested knowing enough of the Dursley's from Harry's tales to not believe a simple letter would force them to abandon their beloved home. Harry offered her a sly smile.

"No. I also put in the letter that Moody will be coming with the group. Uncle Vernon is terrified of him." Hermione giggled lightly her reaction both innocent and sexy to behold. Her joy turned to business however when she questioned where they would be venturing within a few moments. At her questions Harry stood and pulled a small, battered ledger from his back pocket.

"This was a gift from Lupin some weeks prior. It was my fathers, it speaks of a guild opened only to Gryffindor's; where they teach its members forms of magic unfamiliar to the average Hogwarts student." Hermione blinked, taking the book from Harry's hand.

"I've never heard of such a place." Hermione informed, startled. The ledger was small, its writing both minuscule and alien to anything Hermione had ever seen before. Hermione blinked, startled by the strange, unknown language. The young woman was fluent in a multitude of languages including Latin and Greek but even with this intense education she could not read the strange text.

"What language is this?" she questioned finally relinquishing any attempt she mite have at transcribing the writing text. Harry smiled gently.

"English." Harry informed drawing an incredulous look from his lover.

"I know both traditional English and Celtic Gaelic I've never seen this form of English before."

"Use a mirror." Harry said gently lifting a small, reflective case from his desk. Intrigued Hermione observed the mirror as Harry held the reflective surface over the text. Cocking her head Hermione gazed in disbelief, she could read the text fluently in the mirror as easily as plain English.

"Mirror writing?" Hermione questioned taking the silver case from Harry's hand and observing the text.

"You won't believe me how long it took me to figure that out. My father was an expert in mirror writing and would often scribe secrets in this language. This was the only secret Lupin possessed as we both believe any others were destroyed when Voldemort killed my parents."

"Harry, this is amazing," Hermione complimented her eyes now scanning and absorbing all of the information available. "This guild was where your father, Sirius and _him_," Hermione spat the final word with a essence of deepest disgust refusing to speak the betrayers name. "This was where they learned to become Animagi. I've often wondered how people so young could master such complex magic."

"Exactly, and this is where we are going." Harry stated. Hermione smiled brightly.

"Does the ledger tell you where in the country this Guild is?" Harry shook his head.

"No, my father writes that the location of the Guild can not be spoken or written down. I guess a Secret Keeper holds that true information. But he has dropped some hints, and of these we start today."

* * *

The echoing _bang_ of the summoned Knight Bus resonated amidst the cliquish Surrey suburb. Both Harry and Hermione, accustomed to strange noises still ducked down and covered their heads in a flinch reflex, the bodies natural reaction to explosions and noises of intense volume. A snigger escaped the conductors throat, himself a new and unknown member of the bus.

"Where's Stan?" Harry questioned of the conductor, himself a tall, elder wizard with greying hair and the dark robes of the bus director.

"I'm afraid Stan resigned some weeks ago, my name is Rodney Belby and I shall be your conductor on this journey." Belby offered both Harry and Hermione a formal bow before ushering each of them onto the three tier routemaster. Belby handed each of the couple a roll ticket, his eyes drifted up to Harry's brow and blinked with surprise as he sighted the young man's distinctive marking.

Harry lifted a hand to his brow and ushered Hermione away. They walked to the third tier of the routemaster and settled in bench seats found at the rear of the bus.

"I hate this scar!" Harry snapped a look of disgust centred down the walkway. Hermione knew he was cursing the conductor and his curiosity. She sorrowed for him, knowing that throughout his young life Harry had been the recipient of both wonder and ridicule for his scar and his legacy as the boy who lived. Threading her hand in his Hermione lay her head upon the shoulder of her lover, hearing a sigh of strength flow from him.

A robed witch sat slouched within the seat before them, a swathe of cloth tided about her head, seemingly to offer protection from the elements. She rested against the buses clear window, vapour forming on the glass where she breathed gently, caught to the innocence of slumber. The Knight Bus unleashed another colossal _bang_ and with a jerk of bodies Harry and Hermione sped away on their journey.


	4. Dark Orders

_Chapter Four – Dark Orders_

"You are confident of this?" so the Dark Lord Voldemort hissed, his words coming with a serpentine chill much like the resonance of energy which filled the audience chamber. His blood red eyes observed the woman before him, herself crouched at his feet, head bowed low in respect and fear.

Narcissa Malfoy dare not look her master in the eye, so she spoke her information to the flagstone floor.

"I am certain, my lord. Harry Potter has taken the Mudblood Granger girl as his mate while they seek the Guild of Sanctuary." Narcissa trembled before her lord and master, her garb still the travel stained robes and head scarf she had worn upon her travel upon the Knight Bus. She had listened with pricked ears at the hushed discussions between their enemies as they discussed and wondered both of their disgusting feelings and of the location of the Guild.

Lord Voldemort sat straighter within his high backed chair, his grip strengthening upon the arm rests, his power evoking a strain of wood as he almost grooved the indention of his slender fingers into the surface.

His eyes drifted to his favourite servant, his hand and enforcer. Bellatrix Lestrange stood straight and proud, her body garbed in an ancient styled Victorian dress of leather corset and silk flowing skirt. Beautifications of patterned gold adorned her upper garb,while her womanly body fitted the garb with a voluptuous beauty. Voldemort knew that once, before the sacrifice of his emotions he would have found his favourite Death Eater the epitome of lust and desire. Though now, with his cold blood and unfeeling heart all he could do was admire her strength and pride.

"Bella..." The Dark Lord hissed holding out his right hand, itself slender and unnaturally pale. Bellatrix knelt before her master, kissed the crown of his hand in servitude, loyalty and respect. "You will leave for the west with the final rays. Find my hated enemy and his filthy Mudblood scum and bring them to me."

"Each of them, my lord?" Bellatrix questioned, a dark smile crossed Voldemort's lipless mouth.

"You may kill the girl, but Potter is not to be harmed... much." Bellatrix stood, pressed her fist to her heart and bowed her head. With these final words Voldemort dismissed the two sisters; one walking with a proud air of strength, the other humble and weak.

Voldemort observed each of them as they stepped from his audience chamber and leaving him alone.

The Dark Lord settled himself back into his high backed chair, his proud ambiance broken with an intense essence of fear. The Guild of Sanctuary had existed long before his birthing, believed to be the final resting place of Godric Gryffindor and his fabled collection of knowledge and the source of Gryffindor power. With the founding of Hogwarts and the separation of Salazar Slytherin, Gryffindor had come to fund his fabled Guild, away from the eyes of the other founders of the famous magic school. There he could teach only the boldest and the bravest in the true essence of Gryffindor power and unearthing the true strength of his house.

Voldemort knew that if his enemy and his Mudblood lover were to uncover the secrets of their house and souls, knew that if they were to be accepted by the Guild then they could grow in strength far beyond his own extraordinary abilities. This could not be allowed to happen.

"Fly my dear..." The Dark Lord hissed, his words more a prayer than command. "Fly and find them..."


	5. The Call of Courage

_Chapter Five – The Call of Courage_

The welsh hills were breathtaking, immense valleys carved from long melted glaciers stretched on from horizon to horizon. The earth was rich, the air fresh, pure and clean. Verdant grass land and heather covered the valleys the lush greens dusted with the colours of a thousand wild flowers. Harry and Hermione stood at the summit of a verdant tor, the moist grass crushed beneath their sensible hiking boots they had purchased from a specialist retailer in the countries capital. At Harry's back was slung a heavy travel pack crowned with a collapsible tent.

Hermione wore a grungy T-shirt festooned with a chaotic design and decorated in a multitude of colours. Harry too wore a similar muggle shirt, both clad in loose, water proof trousers and walking boots. They had spent the past two nights deciphering the cryptic hints James Potter had written in his journal. Now they finally believed they had discovered the location of the Guild and the secret of their entrance.

_Look for the sword at final light_. James Potter had inscribed in his ledger, his words speaking of a fabled sword set within a stone of unbreakable granite. _Be you foe we shall not heed, be you of courage we shall come_. Hermione found these other words puzzling, uniting with her belief in the similarities she saw between this sword and the fabled sword of Arthur, King of Britain.

"You don't think...?" she questioned speaking of the mystery both lovers had contemplated since they had found the verse of text. Both accounts, James Potter's description and their knowledge of the Arthurian legends blended to greatly to be coincidence. They gazed at the heavens, saw that the sun was Westering and that if they were to find the sword and the Guild of Sanctuary they would need to haste.

The valley's concealed many secrets, an eerie feeling settling over the pair of lovers. At first fear had collected within each of their hearts, wondering where and within which gathering of rock the sword would appear. It was Hermione who found the believed monument.

With a slight separation Hermione stumbled upon to a large rock formation set almost unnaturally in the shadows of the valley. Together, with a signal from Hermione, Harry followed her shinning silver patronus, a bright, gentle otter, so together they came and gathered around the large stone formation. Hearts began to pound, anticipation heightened to breaking point as the final rays of daylight dissipated. The formation of rock and stone was inscribed with an ancient, fair script, almost elven in its beauty, a script alien to both Harry or Hermione.

Together the couple looked towards the western horizon ready for the suns final rays. Horror gripped the couple. The Sun was slowly being consumed by a layer of cloud. Harry cursed and gripped his fist in his free palm, issuing a prayer to any gods that mite listen. Hermione knelled before the stone, pressed her hand to its cool surface, she closed her eyes.

A final, single ray of evening sun escaped the layer of grey cloud and softly brushed the surface of the black stone. Harry, who had turned away in fury watched not the stone but the environment about them. Knelling before the stone Hermione felt a incredible surge of power erupt from the rock in a mighty pulse of energy.

"Harry!" Hermione cried forth drawing her lover back from his cursed thoughts. Harry gaped, at the summit of the rock formation there had appeared a single, beautiful blade. The sword was thrust into layers of stone and rock so that three quarters of the Longsword was concealed. The rest, the rich silver blade and golden hilt glinted in the final evening sun. Gingerly both Harry and Hermione ventured towards the blade, their touches gentle and hesitant, as each touched the rounded pommel.

"This is a different sword," Hermione said gently, sighting the ruins that were inscribed upon the pommel. "The sword that Arthur pulled from the stone was plain, the name of this blade is Courage."

"The trait of Gryffindor." Harry breathed drawing a nod from Hermione.

"Take it Harry," Hermione encouraged gesturing towards the blade. "No one embodies courage more than you, take it." Harry nodded slightly and erected his arched, curious form. Hermione drew back, watched with bated breath as Harry flexed his fingers readying for the swords extraction. His touch, his fingers coiled around the hilt of the blade, his knees bent, steadying himself.

The resonance of apparition sounded across the quiet of the valley. Harry and Hermione wheeled, sighted a crazed Bellatrix Lestrange materialise from the ether. The sadistic witch unleashed a scream of fury before, with a wild flourish and a billow of her hair she thundered forth a killing curse.

Both Harry and Hermione leapt away from the rock monument. The jet of green light collided with an invisible shield which surrounded both stone and blade. The air rippled as the spell dissolved into nothingness. Bellatrix cackled as both Harry and Hermione rounded on her, wands raised and ready for battle.

"Potter, we know of the Guild, I will not allow you passage." Bellatrix hissed, her field of vision swiftly differing from foe to foe. Memories of his Godfathers final moments, knowing that it was this woman that had stolen his only father figure from him unleashed a torrent of fury out from deep within his soul.

Bellatrix and Harry engaged in combat.

"Hermione! The sword!" Harry called out across the chaos of battle. Bellatrix hissed, sparks and streams of energy **ricocheting from shield charms, and** spraying the earth with heat and power. Hermione understood and on swift feet hurried towards the sword.

"Nooo...!" Bellatrix screamed, abandoning any thought of her foe and turning to face the fleeing Hermione.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" a scream tore from Harry as helplessly he watched the jet of green light chase the woman he loved. A welling of emotion, fear, passion, love all surged through him as Harry raised his wand, all of these emotions unleashed within a single spell.

"_Protego_!" The air surrounding Hermione glinted, streaked into a dome of energy so vast, and so thick, that it was visible to the naked eye. The killing curse struck the magically enchanted barrier. An eruption of power thundered as these titans of magic collided. A torrent of air buffeted the valley, an explosion sounded, showering each of the trio with an eruption of earth. Clouds of dust, dirt and shards of grass gathered upon the gale of wind as the chaos slowly subsided.

Both Harry and Bellatrix coughed lungfuls of dust and dirt. Each looked after the core of anarchy, Bellatrix's expression one of sadistic malice, Harry's one of fear and concern. The dust slowly settled, it was Bellatrix who gasped at the sight which greeted she and her foe.

Hermione stood at the pinnacle of the stone formation, the sword of Courage held aloft, the blade glowing in a nimbus of crimson and gold light. Behind her a number of ancient Knights materialised from the ether. Each bore the white linen garb of the famous Templar Knights but emblazoned at their breast was worn the golden lion of Gryffindor. Harry rejoiced at the appearance of the Knights while Bellatrix began to back away fretfully.

"How... how did you?" Bellatrix's words escaped her. The Knights circled Hermione, drew their swords and knelled down in respect to her. Hermione blinked, lowering the sword and gazing upon each of the helmed Knights confused and somewhat frightened.

"Filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix snapped, raised her wand ready to recite another killing curse. The Knights reacted with swiftness, each drawing their swords and standing before Hermione, shields raised, their energy gargantuan. Fear flooded Bellatrix, an emotion she was not familiar with, but she felt the danger placed upon her. She reacted. Her body was consumed by shadow as, with a terrified _crack,_ Bellatrix disappeared.

Harry gasped as he gazed upon the ancient garbed Knights, twelve in number twelve of all. Each stood with the air and authority of nobility, as tall as a king, as strong as the warriors they were with an ambiance of intense arcane skill. Hermione still stood upon the summit of the rock monument, the sword of Courage held at her side, itself she held with a essence of strength, courage and bravery which were the embodied traits of any Gryffindor. Slowly, gingerly Harry approached his lover. The Knights, be through arcane ways or by the emotions he resonated, he knew not, but they parted their shield wall and allowed Harry to stand next to his lover. Hermione threaded her free hand into his, eyed the silent warriors as they all observed her and Harry. Then, with a bold, mighty hail so the Knights raised their swords, surrounding the startled Gryffindor youths in a circle of steel.

"_Hail...! Hail...!_" The Knights chanted in unison, their voices sounding like a tribute too ancient nobility. The pair of startled lovers couldn't help but smile even if, within, they were startled and deeply confused. Their confusion turned to wonder however as, materialising upon the very air, almost as though a cloak of concealment had been swept from its structure, so a grand, majestic castle, masoned from thick stone as white as winter appeared upon the wind. Its battlements stretched on hundreds of feet into the heavens and many feet broad and thick. Crimson and gold banners snapped and stirred in the evening air as the portcullis was slowly opened.

The castle was the epitome of beauty; a sense of acceptance and warmth seeped through the youths inner-selves, a feeling of safety, security and the feel of home surrounded them, resonating both from the castle and the Knights who praised them. It was the same feeling Harry felt when he gazed upon the battlements of Hogwarts each year, however this feeling felt stronger, more of a calling, a summon to a true home.

"If I may good sir and great lady?" One of the Knights finally spoke, removing his helmet to unveil a strong, noble face, handsome but marred with the testaments of combat. His eyes were of grey and dark as smoke, his smile soft and benign. The handsome warrior offered his hand to Hermione in a grip of assistance. A fellow Knight offered his hand to Harry who watched as the warrior helped his lover from the stone summit. Hermione thanked the warrior kindly who lifted her hand and kissed its crown.

Her cheeks flushed, she smiled her warm, fair smile as the Knights, one by one, began to remove their helmets and either offer hands of friendship to Harry or offer respect to Hermione. Why they were receiving such treatment startled the couple but they knew answers would come as, together, surrounded by an entourage of steel, strength and pride and they advanced upon the castle.


	6. The Crown of Sanctuary

_Chapter Six – The Crown of Sanctuary_

Together, flanked by the twelve Knights of Gryffindor, both Harry and Hermione entered beyond the vast, iron guarded portcullis of the Castle of Sanctuary. The causeway of the Guild was a vast, colourful depiction of the Gryffindor crest fashioned from chips of glass, mosaic tile and other beautifications. The coat of arms mostly familiar to the pair owing to the symbols embroilment upon their Hogwarts robes. The crest was found upon the hearts and chests of all within the castle. Crimson and gold banners streamed down from drop stations set into the four corners of the causeway. Numbers of people, some garbed in simple woollen tunics and cotton hoes had been tending with fork or hand to feed and bed the stables and the animals that existed therein. Others, apprentices and masters stopped in their drilling and exercises, some wielding blunt tourney blades others wands of differing styles and assorted levels of skill, to gaze upon the couple.

All around eyes were centred upon the twelve Knights and the two bemused young people. Hermione's hand threaded into Harry's where he offered her mitt a reassuring, comforting squeeze. Hermione felt the apprehension dissipate slightly though her core was flooded with innumerable butterflies, a product of nerves and weariness.

It was then, when the twelve Knights paused in their march, the couple huddling close together as the warriors parted, allowing the pair a first sight of the many eyes which centred upon them.

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered to Harry, her lips scarcely moving so as not to betray her fears.

"I have no idea..." Harry breathed himself also speaking quietly and in secret. The ambiance grew deathly quiet, the air weighted with a sense of curiosity. Hermione gripped the sword of Courage in her wand hand the feel of the weapon almost weightless within her hand. Around them the couple was aware of whispers and words of fascination and mystique; which centred upon they themselves. Each of them catching snatches of words across the otherwise silent ambiance.

"_The sword... she has the sword!"_

"_Is it them...? The promised ones...?"_

Hermione gazed towards Harry, her cheeks heated and flushed with embarrassment at this strange and unexpected reception. As one the ambiance shifted, erupted from quiet fascination to an explosion of cheer, praise and joy. Both Harry and Hermione started, this sudden reaction completely unexpected and increasingly bizarre.

"_Hail...! Hail...!_" The twelve Knights of Gryffindor chanted, lifted their silver blades in a uplifting of steel. Their cries were equalled by a great number of warriors, while others shouted their own words of appreciation. Some clapped, others whistled. A pair of workers, each of high station, stepped from an adjoining building, themselves carrying beautified cloaks of scarlet and gold adorned with epaulette of fine metals, silk and precious jewels.

The cloaks were presented to the couple, Hermione the first to receive the gift while, mystified the pair adorned the offered garb. A warrior stepped forth, himself carrying a onyx box of stone. Stepping towards Harry so the warrior knelled, unclasped the golden lock which secured the box and lifted the lid. Within, the stone box cushioned with crimson velvet, so a single wand rested. Realising the great insult he would present to the Guild if her were to refuse Harry reached forth and lifted the fine wand. A resonance of energy flowed into him, an eruption of power beyond a bonding.

"The wand has chosen!" the warrior before him issued his cry across the applauding mass. The volley of cheer grew in volume as, one by one, the members of the Guild of Sanctuary stepped forth to offer words of praise.

Harry was reminded of his first trip to the magical world, where an entire tavern had flocked to meet him. Many of the workers, warriors and Knights ushered forth to shake his hand or for fair Gryffindor maidens to place chaste kisses to his cheeks, which always caused a blush to the young man's visage. Startled though Harry was at these displays of affection his embarrassments and unease were trifles to those experienced by his lady love.

The people, some proud Knights or noble warrior, knelled at her feet, kissed her sword hand while each offered oaths of deepest respect and unceasing loyalty.

The fretting continued for many a minute until, from the main keep, a single warrior stepped forth. The cheers and praise ceased at once, so great and so sudden that it possessed the same sensation as one experiences with the sudden loss of hearing.

The warrior Knight stepped forth. He wore the white of a Gryffindor Templar, but upon his brow was placed a crown of gold, fashioned in the design of two meeting lions. He was of late years, his hair cropped short. It had once been dark, but now most was awash with the strains of life. Unsure if they themselves, Hermione and Harry, were required to kneel before this man of obvious nobility the youths knew not and merely stood firm and waited for information.

The crowned warrior stepped forth, though his body was worn he was still broad and powerfully made, his air consisted of intense pride, nobility and strength. Slowly the warrior knelled before Hermione. With careful movements his touch lifted to the side of his head and the body of the golden circlet. Gently, the warrior lifted the crown from his brow, of which he bowed low and presented the symbol of status and power to the startled Hermione.

"My queen." the warrior breathed his tone filled with adoration and respect. Hermione gasped, thunderstruck. Her free hand drifted to her mouth, covering her expression of shock as she turned to face Harry. His visage bore the look of stupefaction. His eyes drifted to the sword of Courage, remembering the legends which accompanied such mystical blades.

Hermione swallowed, believing deep within herself that these people were mistaken. How was this possible? She was muggle born, yet here, surrounded by the Sanctuary of Griffindor they were offering her the crown.

Eyes settled upon her, the wait between Hermione and acceptance of the crown stretching forth discomfortingly. Harry offered her shoulder a strength gathering squeeze. Gently, her mind completely thunderstruck, her form seeking to collapse into oblivion, Hermione drew upon the traits of her house and knelled, accepting the presentation of _her_ crown.


End file.
